


Celtica

by Inkpress00 (rabidgopher)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidgopher/pseuds/Inkpress00
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2000 B.C., Belgium, Earth. Maybe there's more to the Doctor and Rose than just friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celtica

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this longer maybe than I should - I've been a bit preoccupied. I guess I'm on a bit of a fireside cabin sex kick. Not as blatant as other stuff I've posted to Teaspoon, but... yeah. Blatant anyway.

 

 

 

“Oh, lovely,” Rose says, pulling her trainer-clad foot out of the ankle deep mud she’d stepped off the TARDIS into.

 

The Doctor nudges her out, though, so she hops over it onto firmer ground. “Out, out, c’mon, not much time.”

 

“Sorry,” she apologizes. “Wanna explain to me again why we had to leave in such a hurry?”

  


“Ah.” He tugs on his ear and clears his throat. “Well, you remember that part I picked up on Buton?”

  


Rose lifts an eyebrow. “I remember you flirting with that purple woman in the bazaar, yeah.”

 

The pitch of his voice increases as he spins around to face her, hands held out placatingly. “P’loria and I have been friends for centuries! Mind, she might not know it, since I tend to visit her with new faces on occasion… what was my point?”

 

Rose grins against her better judgement. “Buton, getting out of the TARDIS...”

 

“Oh! Right. Ehm, the part I picked up was counterfeit,” he rushes out. “Not in fact made out of Froxcoshion steel, but Heliornium. Completely different cell structure, looks nearly identical. And, er, Heliornium produces a toxic gas when its molecules create friction.”

 

“Okay,” Rose says with a shrug.

 

The Doctor blinks. “You’re not angry?”

 

She shakes her head. “Nah. Not your fault, is it? You do owe me a new pair of shoes, though.”

 

He wisely decides not to mention that P’loria and her veritable clouds of pheremones may have been distracting him from recognizing the authenticity of the metal.

 

“So, where are we?”

 

“Erm…” the Doctor checks the back of his manly hairy hand, looks up at the sky, and squints off into the distance. “Looks to be Celtica, circa 2000 B.C., Earth. Maybe… oooh, Belgium?”

 

“Belgium,” Rose repeats dryly, elbowing him lightly. “You sure it’s not Cardiff again?”

 

He grasps her hand, feigning a stern expression. “One time, Rose Tyler. Will I ever live it down?”

 

She beams up at him. “Never, not if I can help it.”

 

Not even trying to suppress the grin that spreads over his face, he tugs her along. “Come on!”

 

Rose laughs as she runs to catch up. “Where are we goin’?”

 

“No idea!” he shouts gleefully, sprinting across the sodden landscape. “Somewhere dry, before the rain hits!”

 

“Rain? What-” Rose shuts her mouth right as a drop of water hits her cheek and the sky above them rumbles ominously.

 

Before long, the clouds open up in earnest. It doesn’t take long for them to get soaked to the bone. Rose spots the little cottage first and tugs the Doctor’s hand to change their direction. He doesn’t question it, just deftly changes direction to run with her, rainwater dripping from his fringe into his eyes.

 

As if something is chasing them - and if anything, the rain is - they make it inside the cabin and slam the door behind them, leaning up against the warped wood with breathless laughter and shining eyes.

 

The Doctor scoops her up in a squishy, wet hug. “Alright?” he asks, touting his ‘superior physiology’ by not seeming the least bit bothered by the chill.

 

“Cold,” she replies, beginning to shiver. For the first time, they look around at the shelter they’ve appropriated.

 

The floor is dirt, and there’s not much in the way of furnishings. A fireplace big enough for a cow to stand in comfortably is on the far wall, but it's dark and the whole interior smells of mildew and wetness with a tinge of manure.

 

"I'm afraid this is as good as it's going to get.” The Doctor shrugs out of his long duster and peels off the drier jacket underneath. "Take off your hoodie and put this on," he says, tossing her the top piece of his suit.

 

Rose bites her lip in the face of his eager expression. "Oh," she says, dismayed. "Thing is, I'm sort of, um, I-I'm not wearing a shirt. Under this." Redness creeps over her cheeks and suffuses her with a little much-needed warmth.

 

He's unfazed. "That's alright, it'll still help you keep warm until I can dry out the wood enough for a fire."

 

"I-" Rose shuts her mouth with a click. If he can't see anything wrong with her wearing his jacket over just her bra, well, she's not going to be the one to make it weird. She smiles gratefully. "Thanks, Doctor."

 

He beams, and Rose knows she's said the right thing. "Just a tic. Gonna sonic this wood dry so we can burn it." Indeed, she belatedly spots a pile of crudely cut firewood in the abundant shadows near the fireplace.

 

Rose nods and, once his back is turned, strips off her top and replaces it with his jacket. The lining is dry silk that feels almost erotically smooth and warm against her skin that she can't help but shiver.

 

She tries to take a step forward and cringes, locating another possible cause for the shivering.

 

"My jeans are soaked through, too."

 

"Go ahead and take them off, no use in being uncomfortable."

 

His back is still turned toward her, so she shimmies out of her jeans with a little difficulty. The unpleasantly wet denim clearly doesn't want to come off, but eventually she just sits on the dirt floor and pulls from the ankles. In the very, very dim light, she can see raised red chafe marks and winces. "Ouch," she mutters, running her fingers over the bumps.

 

Fortunately, he doesn't hear her over his excited whoop. The hut fills with flickering orange light. Rose grins and gets to her feet.

 

"Warmth!" he crows triumphantly. "Did I ever tell you, Rose, that- oh."

 

When he turns around, she's clutching his jacket closed around her body. It's as much as she's able to cover up, and yet...

 

The Doctor has been struck silent - not an easy task at all, this go around - by her. It feels ridiculously heady. Of course, the realization that she has stripped down and put on his clothes hits her like a slug to the gut and makes her blush fiercely. His eyes follow the heat as it spreads throughout her body with the attention of a hawk on a mouse.

 

She'd be lying if she said she didn't like the attention, especially from the Doctor, but she can't help feeling like it's a little wrong to take pride in the fact that he seems to like looking at her. And then, of course, he goes and speaks.

 

“Ehm... maybe you should have kept your jeans on,” he croaks. She doesn't believe him for a second, thanks to the way his eyes don’t even attempt to stay on her face and the dark rasp to his voice.

 

“Probably a bad idea, taking 'em off,” she agrees, still short of breath from the struggle with her jeans. “You’re staring," chides, biting her bottom lip to badly conceal a smile.

 

“I'm afraid I can't quite help it,” he chuckles nervously. “You’re astonishing," he blurts out. It must be her imagination, too, that he looks like he's blushing. A trick of the fire, maybe?

 

“Maybe that’s stretching it,” she mumbles, looking away.

 

When she looks back up, he’s right there and tipping her chin up. His other hand lands delicately on her waist, as if he’s afraid to break the moment with physical force.

 

“Are you still cold?” he asks in a low voice that makes her shiver. His chilly fingers glide across her skin and tangle through the wet hair at the back of her scalp.

 

Rose tries to drown herself in the heat of his eyes. “Yeah. How ‘bout a hug?” Her lips lift into a little grin, but she falters when he shakes his head.

 

“If you’ll allow me, Rose…” he trails off, staring at her face. Well, her lips, she realizes with a jolt.

 

Her eyes fall closed involuntarily. “Yes,” she breathes, unable to finish the huge little word before his lips crash against hers.

 

He’s phenomenal at kissing, Rose discovers, cursing them both for never doing this before now. His mouth is everywhere, teasing and steady all at once, lips sucking and teeth nibbling and tongue licking. She moans into his mouth and his arms wind around her waist as hers hold on for dear life around his neck.

 

Compelled at once to break the kiss, Rose gasps for breath as his thigh presses between hers. “Oh my god,” she pants out, practically whimpering.

 

“Alright?” he asks cautiously.

 

“Yes,” she tells him desperately, shaking her head, “no. Too good. Don’t - oh god, don’t stop,” she commands, and grips his tie with the intention of bringing his face back to hers.

 

“All that, and we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” he jokes, but there's an undercurrent of stiffness there, as if he feels he's taken a risk by saying that.

 

She stills in his arms. “Are we going to get to that?” she asks him, and it’s almost accusatory. "Just to be clear, I want to. I don’t mind if you don’t, and obviously we don’t have to, but… I do want to, Doctor. If you do.”

 

He looks almost comically offended. “Of course I want to, Rose. I’m an alien; I'm not dead.”

 

Rose bursts into laughter, her giggles breathy and hysterical. She pulls on his tie, reels him in for a kiss.

 

He lets her take the lead this time, and Rose devotes herself to making him feel like his legs won't support him. Her fingers curl in the hair at his nape so that her fingernails scrape lightly over the sensitive skin there, and he shudders. One point to Rose Tyler, she thinks to herself, and nearly giggles. The only thing that keeps her from dissolving into laughter is his whisper-soft moan. He clings to her as if she can keep him from drowning, first with both arms wound tightly about her waist, but soon migrating one to cradle her face so sweetly.

 

She's so, so wet for him in a way that has nothing to do with the rain outside; has been since his jacket touched her skin. She sinks her teeth into his lower lip and swipes her tongue over it. He makes that perfect sound again, the one that makes her want to see how sturdy these walls really are.

 

Rose lets her tongue tangle with his while she enacts her other plan. With one final scratch to his scalp, she removes her hand (despite his sweet noise of protest at the loss) and finds his where it grips her waist. She insinuates her fingers between his and brings them to their sides as if she simply wants to hold his hand while kissing him.

 

The Doctor smiles against her lips and squeezes her hand. She reciprocates with a bubbly feeling in her chest. He can be so beautifully innocent sometimes. But what she has in mind is not remotely innocent.

 

Slowly, she guides his hand to her thigh, inches it inward, presses it against her mons over her knickers.

 

He parts from her mouth with a gasp.

 

In that moment, he's the most beautiful thing Rose has ever seen. Blackened eyes under heavy lids, flushed cheeks making his freckles stand out, wetly shining, plump, parted lips. She has to imagine that she looks nearly the same, minus the freckles.

 

"For me?" he asks wickedly as if it's a present she's given him for no reason, and slips his fingers under her the crotch of her knickers.

 

They both groan, two completely different noises, as his fingers slide through her curls and press into her heat to find slick wetness.

 

"Oh." His head drops heavily into the crook of her neck. "For me?" he asks shakily, so different from the same words uttered just prior. He sound vulnerable. Floored.

 

"Oh, yeah. For so long," she says. "Months. Years."

 

"Precious girl," he murmurs tenderly, wiggling his fingers experimentally and hissing when her mouth latches to his neck to quiet her cries. He lowers them both to the floor next to the hearth, teases her to the brink of orgasm and presses his lips to her temple as she comes.

 

She languishes in his embrace for a little while as he licks his hand clean. Rose watches in fascination and no little arousal as he savors the taste from each finger. Finally, he finishes and looks around the small interior. "Does this bloody hut even have a bed?" the Doctor growls, sounding frustrated.

 

Rose giggles, shaking in his arms. "It must."

 

He sighs. "I don't want to let you go to find it," he admits.

 

"How 'bout if I kiss you again?" she offers, her lips already closing in on his.

 

"Wellll, I might be persuaded," he allows with a crooked grin.

 

Rose stands on wobbly legs before he can find her lips with his. "Come on, then."

 

He stands and huffs sulkily in front of her. "I just gave you a magnificent orgasm, and you can already stand?"

 

"You're completely cracked," Rose tells him fondly.

 

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," he says, carefully nonchalant and not looking at her.

 

Rose stills. He's phrased it so she can just brush it off if she likes. On the other hand, it's a clear invitation.

 

She cups his face in both hands. "Yes, I do."

 

The Doctor gazes down at her in astonishment. "What, really?" he croaks out. Then, he visibly pulls himself together. "I mean, erm, of course." He stares deep into her eyes. "Me too."

 

"You love you too?" she asks playfully, resting both hands on his chest.

 

"I love you, Rose Tyler," he vows, voice tender but eyes fierce.

 

Instead of kissing her though, or even just throwing her back down in front of the fire and taking her right there, the Doctor scoops up his long coat and tugs on her hand. Over on the side of the wall, there’s an ill-fitting door that he shoves open with his shoulder.

 

“I would’ve liked to stay with the fire, but we’ll keep ourselves warm enough.” He nods meaningfully at a shoddy straw mattress in the corner.

 

It’s not the nicest, but Rose kind of can’t care. As soon as he sees that she’s remotely satisfied with the conditions, he strips off his clothes efficiently and makes himself reasonably comfortable on the bed.

 

Rose can take a hint.

 

She sheds his jacket and her undergarments, even as a chill runs through her, and sits on the end of the bed to remove her still-sodden, muddy socks. Even without looking, she can feel his gaze on her. It’s nearly enough to keep her warm by itself.

 

“Alright?” he asks softly.

 

Rose smiles to herself. “Yes,” she reaffirms gently but firmly. “Always, Doctor.”

 

He hums happily. Rose flicks her eyes to look at him, and what she sees nearly stops her breath.

 

The Doctor is supplicant and nude, waiting patiently for her and lounging on their bed for the night. With any other bloke, this would be quite sexy. With the Doctor, it's nigh unbearable. The man’s already given her an orgasm as they lay in front of a roaring fire, for crying out loud. Even looking at him is difficult if she doesn’t want her underwear to go flying off of its own accord.

 

Then again, she’s already taken everything off, and he’s the one looking at her like she’s some goddess of sex. With a feigned self-sacrificial sigh, she decides to just give him what he wants. Her gaze turns predatory as she figures out a way to do this right.

 

She crawls on all fours up the length of his body and lowers herself so that every inch of her is pressed against him, knees folded so that she can rub slickly against his cock.

 

He moans enchantingly, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping the sides of her ribs. She reckons that he might just leave bruises, but doesn't care - actually, she finds she's turned on by that. She wants him to mark her all over. Mottled purple splotches on her neck, fingerprints every place he squeezes for purchase, teeth marks on the insides of her thighs.

 

Images of roughly being taken from behind fill her mind and she groans loudly. Sitting up on his lap, she shifts until his erection is in front of her sopping core. Up and down, she undulates her hips to get maximum friction against her clit. Her eyes roll back in her head and fall shut, leaving every other sense heightened.

 

The Doctor is gasping at her every movement, whimpering helplessly as he exhales, and Rose can hear every delicious sound as his exits his lips. It's practically in stereo. Amazingly, he smells like sandalwood even through the thick haze of sex. She wonders, if she licked him, what he would taste of? If she sucked him, would he make the noises he is now? Gorgeous and obviously, she thinks, respectively.

 

Finally, she can't take another moment of teasing. In one smooth motion, at the top of a figure eight, she sinks down on his cock, burying him completely within her. He shouts hoarsely and his fingers scrabble for new purchase over her sweat-slicked skin. He’s big, and it’s been awhile for her, so she lets her head drop forward as she adjusts to him.

 

"Rose, Rose, Rose," he begs over and over, bucking his hips sharply into hers. She gasps at the sudden movement, but it feels incredible. "Please, yes, so beautiful, your heat, so wet, sweet Rose. More, give me- give me more, I want..." He rambles on, murmuring nonsense and alien languages and pleading for things she is already giving him.

 

She rides him hard, harder than she thinks he was probably anticipating, and from the way he looks and the way he sounds, he's fucking loving it. He's flat-out shouting as she presses her hands down on his shoulders, so she doesn’t slow.

 

After several minutes of shagging him into the bed, a low growl rumbles from his throat in warning and he tackles her backwards. Literally pounces so that her head is now at the opposite end of the bed. "Touch yourself," he commands, rutting into her hard. His teeth sink into her neck and tease the bite marks with his tongue; Rose wants more.

 

"No." She shakes her head stubbornly.

 

His eyes darken dangerously. His voice is extremely rough. "Do as I say, Rose."

 

Again, she refuses, close enough that she really doesn’t need the added stimulus, and he growls. "If you don't, you won't come," he warns.

 

"Is that a threat?" She tries to laugh, but ends up just choking out a gasp.

 

"No," he bites out. "But I’m not gonna last, Rose."

 

Oh, is that all? "Me either. You first." She clenches around him and her nails bite into the skin of his back. "Now, Doctor," she pants.

 

He shouts a non-word brokenly, spilling into her. Rose lets go and grinds herself once up against his pelvis and explodes herself.

 

His body slumps, its full weight on top of hers. His fingers are the only things that don't relax, and she's absolutely going to have bruises there in the morning. Maybe they can visit the beach, where she can wear a bikini and show off proof of his claim on her. The thought makes her smile sinfully, and nearly falls asleep to the fuzzy, warm feeling it elicits.

 

He chooses that moment to roll off of her with a groan. "Blimey," he says on a puff of breath.

 

Rose chuckles indulgently. "Mmm," she agrees.

 

"That was..." he continues, trailing off into stunned silence.

 

"Yeah, it really was," Rose finishes for him.

 

They catch their breath for a few minutes, during which time neither of them say anything, but he links their hands and rests them between their heads on the pillow. While the Doctor recovers, Rose dozes off from the sheer force of their lovemaking.

 

Meanwhile, he flops his head to the side to look at her.

 

Even in a dingy, dirty, wet cabin in bronze age Europe, Rose glows like the sun. And he, her Sol 3, is pulled toward her like she emits a gravitational field of her very own.

 

He has no doubt that she's satisfied. The intensity of her orgasm around him told him that. Ideally, of course, he would have had their first time be gentler, but he can't regret a second of it. He wishes he'd gotten to kiss her a little more as well, but again, there had been so much pleasure that he wouldn't dare change it. They have next time, and the next, and the next, after all.

 

Rose snuffles softly in her light sleep and he grins widely. Mustering up his strength, he engulfs her soft, sticky body within his arms and squeezes her tightly. Her eyes open into slits and she smiles, reciprocating his embrace. Her leg slings itself over his hip, her arms snaking around his neck. The Doctor presses a kiss to her hair and pulls his coat over them both.

 

"Stay," she commands sleepily, the hand from under his neck fisting in his hair.

 

"Of course." As if he would ever leave this precious creature.

 

 


End file.
